


The Price of Blindness

by ChelleyPam



Category: Revolution - Fandom
Genre: General!Matheson, President!Monroe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over one thousand miles of adventure, battles and loss...and it was all a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had all been a lie.

Miles had never left the Militia. He'd never left Monroe. He'd only been play acting to try and draw his brother out. He'd never stopped being General Matheson.

Nora and Aaron were...she didn't know where they were. They'd been drug off somewhere else. She'd been hauled up the stairs of Independence Hall, kicking and screaming, and had been deposited into a richly appointed room with all the windows nailed shut. She'd hammered on the closed door, screaming for Miles to get his ass in there and explain himself, until her fists had started to bleed. 

In the end, she'd curled up onto the bed, still clothed, and cried herself to sleep.

~***~

The sound of a key being turned in the lock woke her. She scrambled off the bed, keeping the heavy piece of furniture between her and the door. It was still dark outside. A guard came in first, armed and business like. He told her to stand next to the wall. Miles had removed her knives before ordering her to be taken away, so she had no way to fight back. She stood by the wall and watched as a trio of young soldiers came in, each carrying two large buckets of steaming water which they poured into the large tub in one corner of the room. 

Captain Baker came in as the boys left. He laid a Militia uniform onto the bed, setting a pair of highly polished boots next to it. "General Matheson wants you cleaned and dressed for breakfast in an hour. I am to tell you that you either do so on your own, or I am to let the guards...assist you with it." He met her gaze with frank, open eyes. "Charlotte, don't make me send them in here with you. Do as your told. I'll be back for you in an hour."

He left her, the door to her room shutting and the lock turning. She looked at the uniform, crisply pressed and the boots practically glowing. Either do as she was told or let the Militia guards strip her down by force and do who knew what while they 'helped' her. She scowled as she stripped out of her clothes. When Baker came back she was clean, dressed and had her hair tightly braided. He looked relieved.

He escorted her downstairs and into a room with windows that let in the first bit of light from the dawn. Miles and Monroe were there. Monroe was seated at a table with a plate of food he only halfway paid attention to as he skimmed over a sheaf of papers. Miles was, unsurprisingly, fixing himself a drink. He looked up as Baker brought her in. She saw him take a quick appraisal of her and give Baker an approving nod. Her escort moved to take a seat at the table. A staff member placed a plate of food in front of him.

"Prompt and on time. That's a good start. Have a seat, Charlie." She didn't move. He wanted her to sit at the same table with Monroe?

She didn't see him move. Without warning Miles was next to her, a cruel hand gripping her braid and pulling tight. She gave a gasp of surprise and pain, her hands snapping back to try and pull his off. He jerked her braid, his breath hot on the side of her face.

"Play time is over, Charlotte!" His voice was a menacing hiss. "You're going to start doing as I tell you! Sit!" He let her go with another yank of her braid that moved her towards the table. 

Monroe never looked up as she took her seat or as her breakfast was set down before her. When she just stared at her plate, he spoke without moving his eyes . "Eat up, Charlotte. The food at the academy is unlikely to be as palatable."

She froze. The academy? She looked up at Miles, the question clear in her eyes. He shrugged as he sat down across from her. "My daughter isn't going to be rank and file. You'll be an officer."

She gripped had fork next to her plate, anger building in her. "Ben Matheson was my father."

Miles shook his head as he snapped his napkin open and placed it in his lap. "No, he wasn't. Never was, though he knew the truth before the Blackout and held up Rachel's lies to me when I asked. Helped her keep you from me, disappeared with you when the lights went out and kept you hidden from me and robbed me of seeing you grow up. But that's over, now. No more lies. No more hiding. You're home, now."

She wanted to lash out at him. To tell him this wasn't her home and he wasn't her dad, no matter what he said. But where "uncle" Miles might take her sass, she wasn't sure what General Matheson would do. Instead she reminded herself that she hadn't eaten since the previous morning and set herself to her breakfast. It was more food than she'd had in one meal in months, and her appetite had long since decreased in response that she couldn't eat all of it. That didn't stop Miles from making a quick sandwich of bacon, eggs and buttered toast and setting it on her plate with a firm look. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes and took her time in eating it. It seemed he wasn't entirely giving up on his more obsessively protective traits. He was satisfied with her finishing half.

"I'll be back in a while. I need to get Charlie over to the academy and introduce her to Matt."

Monroe nodded."Of course. Have a nice first day, Charlotte. Try to keep out of trouble."

Miles walked by her through the streets of Philly. It didn't escape her notice that people moved to get out of his way. She couldn't blame them. In his full General mode, Miles was scary. His dark uniform coupled with his dark looks gave off a perpetually cold menace. The soldiers were unerringly polite and regimental. People avoided his gaze. They made their way to an imposing building of brick and stone, other young people in uniforms like hers hurrying up the stairs. The guard at the door noticed the and called for attention. The cadets scrambled to the sides of the stairs and snapped rigid, making way for them to pass.

Miles walked her to an office marked Head Master and let himself in. No one was there, but he didn't seem to mind too much. Charlie looked about the office with its large desk and shelves of books.

"Charlie, I want to be clear about something." She looked up at him. "You're mine. Danny isn't, and your mother and I haven't been on friendly terms since I learned she lied to me about you." He cricked his neck. "I don't want to receive any negative reports regarding you. You won't be the one answering for it."

She swallowed. The threat was clear. Miles met her eyes, his own cold. "Do you understand?" She linked at him. "I asked you a question, Cadet."

She blinked again. "Yes, Sir."

Miles' lips quirked up at one corner. She jumped a bit as one large hand came to rest on her back, his thumb rubbing a light, brief circle there before dropping. "That's my girl. I know this is all strange and a shock to you, but I know you'll do me proud."

The door opened and a slender man in an officer's uniform came in. He smiled. "General Matheson, it's good to have you back, Sir."

"It's good to be back, Matthew." Miles placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Allow me to introduce Charlotte Marie Matheson." There was a smile in his voice.

The Head Master smiled. "It's good to finally meet you, a Cadet Matheson. I know your father has been looking forward to the day you could join us here." He looked back at Miles. "Today will be rather light. She'll be taking aptitude tests until early afternoon. I can escort her back personally with the results."

"Thank you. That is appreciated. Monroe will have me tied up in meetings all day." He squeezed her shoulder. "I'll see you when you get home. Remember what I said."

~***~

Apparently she'd done very well on her aptitude tests. Colonel Matthew Kraeger was very pleased with her results in reading and comprehension and thrilled with her math scores. He was more than happy to say so over dinner, to which he, his wife and their three children (two sons each a bit older than she and a daughter who was her age) had been invited. She noticed that Bethany Kraeger wasn't in uniform and apparently wasn't even a cadet. 

"Her history is a bit weak, but that's the norm these days. With her other scores being so high, however, I gave every confidence she'll catch up there in no time. I don't know what backwater hamlet she grew up in, but she had a good teacher. She's already got a solid grounding in both calculus and trigonometry. Better than most of our commissioned officers."

Miles shared a smile with Monroe. Charlie stamped down the urge to throw something at them. They looked so smug and pleased, as though either of them had anything to down the her accomplishments. They hadn't. 

"Who taught you? Ben or Aaron?" Miles at least knew there were other parties at work.

"Both. Da..." She cut that off when she noticed the slight tightening in Miles' fingers around his glass. Okay, don't mention anyone else in a paternal fashion around company. "Uncle Ben taught me at first, then Aaron after he started a school in the village."

Monroe looked studious. "Aaron. Is that the man Tom was talking about? Used to be with Google. He said the guy had a few doctorates."

Miles nodded. "Sounds about right. He's soft, not a fighter, but he's smart and has a tendency to come through when you least expect it. He killed Drexel."

Monroe looked intrigued. "What happened?"

Miles cast a glance at Charlie. "He had us over a barrel. Sent Charlie to kill the head of a clan made from pre-Blackout cops and cop families. Either she did it or he'd kill Nora and Aaron. After she left, Aaron gave a very impassioned speech about how I should choose Charlie over the pair of them and said he'd do his best to get them out. From what Nora says, Drexel got pissed I killed some of his guys and took off, so he forced them into a duel. Instead of shooting Nora, he shot himself." He grinned at Monroe's expression. "In his flask. When Drexel leaned over to make sure he was dead, Aaron shot him."

Monroe laughed. "We're talking about the chubby guy with glasses, right? I would not have expected that. Excellent example of brains over brawn. You should get him a new flask."

"I should."

Kraeger had been pondering as he listened. "Are you talking about Aaron Pittman?"

Miles nodded. "That's him. You heard of him?"

Kraeger's smile widened. "I went to MIT with him! Man was a genius in math and physics. I just didn't peg him as someone who'd survive the Blackout. He would be a huge asset to the school."

Charlie felt Miles watching her. She glanced up to meet his gaze, his mouth pursed in thought before he looked over to Monroe. "He did do a good job with Charlie, and he knows his stuff. Not to mention he helped watch over her all these years. I kinda owe him."

Monroe nodded. "Good point. Matt, why don't you get away from the Academy after lunch tomorrow and we'll go talk to him about it?"

"It would be my pleasure, Sir. I'd like to touch base with someone from my old alma matter."

Charlie felt Miles' eyes on her as they bid good-night to their guests. After she'd finished her testing, Kraeger had given her a copy of the school's code of conduct to read while he'd graded them. She remembered his not-so-subtle threat from that morning and observed the protocol she'd read. The Head Master beamed at her and told his youngest son that he could learn a thing or two from her before they left.

"Good job." Her spine stiffened at the praise. Miles rubbed her back briefly. "I think we can bend the rules against cadets having alcohol. You've earned a drink. Come on." She knew it wasn't really a request. She followed him into Monroe's office where the President was already pouring two glasses. "Make Charlie one, too."

"You'll spoil her." He flipped over another glass anyway.

"I have twenty years to make up for." He patted her shoulder with a subtle push to sit down on the sofa facing the hearth, coming to rest in the chair next to her and stretching out his legs. "You did good, Kid. Kraeger was impressed. And I know you're more than ready for the physical portion of your training." He smirked. "I might have to drop by to watch you wipe the floor up with a few of those young bucks."

"Don't mind him, Charlotte." Monroe handed a glass to Miles and one to her before he flopped down onto the sofa next to her. He stretched he legs out, crossing them at the ankles as he sank low in the cushions with his free arm draped along the back. She resolved not to lean back. "From what I can tell, any man with a daughter would much rather she beat the crap out of men rather than possibly doing anything else with them. Don't worry. I talked him out of the chastity belt idea."

Miles kicked his longer legs into Monroe's ankles. The other man kicked back.

This was beyond surreal. She was sitting between two of the most feared men on the continent. They even scared her. However they were acting like she had been part of their lives all along. 

She drank the whiskey in her glass without trouble. Neither Miles nor Aaron had been stern about liquor and she handled it fine. Aaron had shared his flask on occasion and Miles had been more than willing to give her a belt or two from his bottle as she was preparing to turn in. He'd said it would help her sleep. 

How had she not seen through him?

Miles took up the bottle on the end table and topped off her drink. "They won't go easy on you just because you're my daughter, Charlie. You'll have to make your own way."

"Relax, Miles. Unless you and Tom have exaggerated your reports, I'm sure our girl here will do fine." Monroe's hand had found its way from the top of the sofa to the small of her back. He rubbed circles that were not of the paternal kind Miles gave her. The was something disturbingly intimate about them. She looked over to Miles, but either he hadn't noticed or he didn't particularly mind.

Charlie downed her second glass and asked to be excused for the evening.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't know what was worse; the hours of extra history homework needed to catch her up to the rest of her classmates, or the fact the General Matheson had shown up during hand-to-hand training that afternoon and had amused himself by goading the other cadets into teaming up on her. Especially the bigger, male cadets. She'd won, he'd taught her a lot of dirty, underhanded tricks during the journey here, but it been annoying all the same.

"You should have seen it, Bass. Those idiots didn't know what hit them. I almost felt embarrassed for them. Hell, I was more than a bit worried about the quality of officers we're getting."

"That's what happens when you turn the reigns over to someone else. They never do well enough to suit you." Monroe poured himself another glass of wine before reaching over to top of her own. What was it with these guys and alcohol? Had they never heard of water? What about milk? "Maybe it's time we did an evaluation of the Academy. See where it may need some polishing. Matt's good, but he's always been more of an academic than a soldier. Maybe he needs a new martial instructor."

"Could be. How'd it go with Aaron?" Charlotte's ears pricked up.

"He was distrusting at first, but he remembered Matt. Dumb luck, that. When I pointed out he'd get to see Charlotte and make sure she's all right for himself, he agreed. The school has a couple of faculty homes open and he's being given one of those on top of his pay. We'll have yo keep a guard on him for the time, but he doesn't strike me as the trouble making sort. Or even exceptionally brave."

"Don't talk about him like that!" 

Both men looked over at her in quiet surprise. She hadn't meant to blurt out like that, but since she had she wasn't going to take it back. She lifted her chin at Mile defiantly. "Aaron isn't a coward."

He held her gaze, his eyes dark and assessing. After an extended moment, he gave a single mod. "You're right, he's not a coward. A coward would have stayed safely at home instead of leaving his comfort zone to follow you across the country. And he does have a tendency to rise to the occasion and surprise you. He's not a fighter, but he's not a coward. His strength lies in his intelligence. A rare commodity."

She relaxed a little and dinner continued as though there had been no interruption. Miles and Monroe discussed trouble at the Plains border and her mother's progress with something called an 'amplifier'. It would give them power. Power to get their helicopters into the air.

_And he'll roll right over the other republics._

Miles wanted that just as much. To conquer everything.

When their plates were cleared away Monroe excused himself to see yo some last minute reports. Miles sprawled out in a chair by the hearth, whiskey in hand. She licked her lips and was about to excuse herself for the evening when he set the glass aside. "Come here, Charlie."

She walked over. Miles held out a hand to her. She took it and with one sharp tug he had her spun around and seated on his lap. Before she could wrap her mind around that, he had his arms wrapped around her and hugged her into him, his nose pressed to her head. He held her like that for a long moment before letting up slightly but still holding her. 

"You're doing great, Kid. I knew you would." He reached up with one hand and smoothed a few wild strands of her hair. "Getting the rug pulled out from under you like that can cripple some people. You adapt and excel." He sounded...proud of her. He hugged her close again. "You're finally home." He sounded like he was trying to assure himself. He squeezed her tightly enough that her bones creaked, but she bit back any complaint. For a moment, she could forget he was the fearsome general, because he was holding her like she was the most important thing in the world. Her dad had been a gentle man, but not an affectionate one towards her. A little part of her now wondered if that was because she wasn't his. Miles was gruff, violent and scary as fuck, but on occasion he was like this. 

An insight broke through her mind. It wasn't that Miles didn't care. It was that he sometimes cared too much. When he did, he'd grab onto what he cared about and try to force it to stay put and stay safe, which would drive most people away. Was that his problem? 

"Miles?"

"Yeah, Kid?"

"Why did you and Monroe start the Militia?"

He sighed, pressed a kiss to her head and reached over to pour more whiskey into the glass. He set the bottle down, handed her the glass and then picked up the bottle for himself. "When the lights went out, Bass and me went back to the base and waited with the rest of the Marines for orders. There should have been something. At the very least we should have been sent out to help keep the peace or distribute food and medical supplies. We got nothing. We waited for weeks and the lights still didn't come on. Eventually I couldn't take it any longer. You and the rest of my family were in Chicago. I couldn't keep sitting there, so we went AWOL and started walking to Chicago.

"Everything was falling apart. It had only been a few weeks, but we kept running across campsites. People dead inside. Women raped before they'd been killed, sometimes kids. People fell on one another like animals, killing one another over a can of beans or a sleeping bag. The more we walked, the more we saw." He shook his head. "It got to be too much. Bass an me, we had training in fighting and survival. We started gathering people who would otherwise be prey. We trained the strong ones to fight. Kept the weaker ones safe. Over time, we got so big we had to establish a hierarchy and rules. It all just...came together."

So it hadn't started out as a ploy to take over. That was a relief, but how had it all gone wrong?

It also explained the near sycophantic loyalty the Militia had towards Miles and Monroe. 

Miles was still holding her when Monroe came back to the room. "Story time?"

"Father/Daughter moment."

"Well, you're overdue for some. Stop drinking all my whiskey." Monroe snatched the bottle from his hand and poured the rest of the bottle into his own glass. "So, Charlotte, you've got the weekend free. What are you going to do with your time?"

Good question. "I'd like to spend time with Danny." _Please let me spend time with Danny._

Miles seemed to ponder it. "That's fine for Sunday, but I've got plans made already for Saturday. Thought we'd go for a hunt. It's more fun to hunt when you don't have to depend on it for survival. And after this week I could use the breakaway. Basshole over there is a fucking slave driver."

"It's your job, Pussy."

Miles flipped him off before giving her another hug. "Hit the rack. We're getting up early."

~***~

Getting up early was nothing new to Charlie. Back home she always rose with the first hesitant light before sunrise. She'd grab a piece of yesterday's bread, maybe some cold stew, and head out to see what she could bring down. Venison was always welcomed, though not always safe. They were healthier during the fall and winter. During summer they often had problems with sickness and parasites, plus there would be fawns that would need their mothers to survive to grow up hunting aged adults. 

Feral pigs were always fair game. They could have multiple litters a year, with anywhere from four to eight piglets. They also were extremely destructive. If left unchecked they could devastate an area by rooting around to dig up acorns and tubers. Plus, there was very little on a pig that wasn't delicious.

"Ever go for pheasant?"

Charlie shook her head. "Never anything smaller than duck or goose."

Miles smiled. "Let's hope we get lucky, then. There aren't a lot of pheasants here, they're weren't native and were brought in by people wanting to hunt them before the Blackout. Good eating, though. Been craving them since we got back. Not a lot of them in Chicago. C'mere. I got you something."

He took her over to the tack house of the stables. They weren't taking horses, this was just a good place to gather with the men Miles was taking with them. On the stable master's desk was a wooden case with brass fastenings. Miles jerked his head towards it, a signal that she should open it. She did so, and inside was a gracefully built recurve crossbow with a mounted site.

She looked back up at him. Her crossbow was one she'd scrimped and saved to buy, and had gone through five previous owners. The cord had been replaced multiple times and it had a crack in the stock that would eventually snap. This looked brand new. She lifted it reverently from the case to examine it. The walnut stock was carved, for aesthetic reasons, not for function. She studied the primrose design with "Charlotte Matheson" worked out in elegant script. He'd had this crossbow made specifically for her.

"You wanna take some practice shots to get used to it before we head out? Make sure the sites are set right?"

"Yes, please."

He jerked his head outside. "The are targets set up out back."

She scooped up the bolts and ran out without any further encouragement. She heard him chuckling behind her and tell one of the men to carry the case back to Independence Hall. She found targets set up on hay bales. Threading the quiver over her shoulder, she hefted the weight of the crossbow, getting used to it and the site before loading it up. It was heavier than her crossbow, being hand crafted from wood and post-Blackout steel rather than pre-Blackout carbon fiber, but not overly so. She could smell the wax used to grease the string and the polish used on the wood of the stock. She loaded a bolt and placed the warm wood against her cheek. 

Three shots. With the scope she didn't have to run up to check the grouping. A little off to the left. She adjusted the sites and took three more shoots. She'd moved too far to the right. She repeated the process about four more times until she was hitting the center of the targets consistently. This one took a bit more oomph to pull back than she was accustomed to, but again not overly so. She did a couple more groupings just to make sure she had the sites right.

"You ready?" She nodded. "Get your bolts and lets head out."

They made their way to a field with tall grass. The men had brought dogs which Miles said would flush out the birds if there were any to be found. He had a field guide with illustrations of different animals so she could familiarize herself with what they were hunting for. Smallish, according to the entry, but not impossible. She'd shoot smaller game, but not while flying. This would be a challenge.

They were out there for hours. Charlie took down a couple of turkeys, more to practice than anything else, but Miles was happy to have them. Finally the dogs perked up and their quarry was chased from hiding. Miles and Charlie both fired; he with his rifle and she with her new crossbow. Over the next hour and a half she only managed to get three, mainly because loading a new bolt in a crossbow took a moment, but her birds were unlikely to accidentally break a tooth on a stray round hiding inside.

Miles grinned, plucking one of the long tail feathers off a bid and sticking it in her braid so it stood up. "Nice work."

She rolled her eyes at him and took the feather out. "Thank you." She felt... content. This she knew. This she enjoyed. Then the memory of where she was and who he was came back and darkened her moment. Thankfully, he had turned away before her expression changed.

For an extended moment, she watched him and thought about how easy it would be. She couldn't take them all out, her crossbow had a disadvantage in speed, but she could take him out. She could kill the Butcher of Baltimore and put a huge wrench in Monroe's plans. He had his guard down. Had given her a weapon she was skilled with that would give her the power to do it. The soldiers might kill her in retaliation, but she could end General Matheson.

And could end Miles. 

Charlie swallowed and realized her fingers had tightened on the crossbow stock. She made herself relax and move forward to walk by Miles. She couldn't kill him. He might have lied to her, might be helping Monroe hold her mother and brother prisoner, but he was her family, too. Her father, if he was to be believed. She'd have Danny ask Mom for her, she wasn't allowed to see her. Miles' jaw tightened and an angry light came into his eyes whenever she mentioned her mother. He wasn't Rachel Matheson's biggest fan.


	3. Chapter 3

Miles was furious. It poured off of him in waves like a cold wind, freezing her in place more thoroughly than the iron grip of the guard's fingers wrapped around her bicep. 

“Please! I'm sorry! Don't do this!”

Dark eyes glared, seeming more angry at the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. She heard her mother begging Miles to stop as soldiers starting pulling Danny away. Her father approached her, dark and sinister in his height and his rage. 

“Why, Charlie? You had one job; follow the rules. Do that, and Rachel and Danny would be fine. Have I mistreated them? Has anyone? No! They've been kept in luxury, well fed, their every need tended to. I let you see them. I let you spend time with your brother. All you had to do was behave yourself!”

She couldn't tear her eyes away from Miles. She'd thought she'd covered every possible variation, every potential pitfall. They'd almost been home free, just needing to get past the guards at the gate, but he'd come back from the training field too early. There were no classes today, the school shut down to prepare for the graduation ceremony for the cadets ready for their commissions, and he'd decided he wanted to spend the day with her. Only he found that she had managed to sneak her mother and Danny out of Independence Hall and was making a break for it.

“Answer me!” His voice was thunder, making her flinch. “Why, Charlie? Why would you do something this fucking stupid!”

**“Monroe kissed me!”**

The room fell silent as father and daughter watched one another, each waiting to see what the other would do. Rachel's shocked sob tore at the quiet, rubbing over her nerves like sand.

Miles stepped back from his looming position over her. “Return Rachel and Danny to their rooms. Everyone else clear out.”

The knot around her heart released a bit. He was sending Danny to his room, not to the prison. He wasn't going to punish him for her disobedience.

He waited until they were alone. “When?”

“Two days ago, after you got called away.”

He turned away from her, pouring himself a whiskey and downing it. She waited, not sure what to do with herself. She felt as though she was trying to walk on eggshells without breaking them. 

“He initiated it?”

She blinked. “Yes.” Of course he did. Did Miles think she would try to kiss Monroe?

He let silence stretch out again, staring out the window onto the street. “I'll talk to him. You should clean up for dinner.” It was a dismissal and her gut told her not to press the issue with Danny. She turned to flee from the room when his voice stopped her again. “Charlie, I'll give you this one, but I won't be lenient a second time. Next time something has you bothered, you bring it to me. Don't do something like this again. I will always find you, and you won't like the results.”

She swallowed. “Yes, Sir.” She left before he could say something else.

~***~

She wasn't sure what Miles had said to Bass, but the President was not a happy camper. His lightly teasing smiles and boyish charm disappeared behind a professionally cold demeanor. He kept a distance between them, though she often felt his eyes on her like a physical weight. She got the impression that he was somehow insulted by her actions. By her refusal of him. 

The friendship between her father and Bass seemed none the worse for wear, however. They still spoke easily with one another. Still conversed with a biting sarcasm that came from years of knowing one another. Not even Monroe pulling her close and claiming her lips in that unexpected, disorienting kiss could shake the foundations of their friendship. Maybe she should have told Miles everything, about how his friend had her pressed between himself and his desk. How she'd felt the hard length of his erection against her belly and the way he'd ran his hands over her back and arms. Perhaps then he wouldn't have been so quick to forgive the man.

“Charlotte?”

She tripped to a stop in the hallway. It had been a little over a week since her attempt to break her family out of Independence Hall, almost two weeks since Monroe had kissed her. Classes were out until the next semester, the students from other areas having gone home to help family farms over the summer. Her days were spent in private lessons to catch her up on things and to train her in fighting and tactics. It meant she was in the house a lot, and it meant that Monroe was always nearby.

“Come here, please.”

She swallowed and turned around, heading into Monroe's office. She approached his desk with calm, measured steps. “Yes, Sir?”

He was writing something down onto a piece of paper. “There some research that needs done over at the archives.” He picked up the paper and handed it to her. “Go over there and pull this document. Summarize what's there and take the information to your father.”

Quick. Orderly. Professional. 

Her nervousness abated as she took the paper. “Yes, Sir.” He dismissed her by doing nothing more than lowering his head. She left the room telling herself not to run. It wouldn't do to show fear or weakness in front of a man like Monroe.

She'd been to the archives before. They were attached to the academy and contained not only copies of legal documents since the Monroe Republic was formed but also historical documents from the history of the United States and she'd come here to research history papers. The document she was being sent for was in the Republic section. Familiar with the card cataloge,she quickly looked up the location and found the file cabinet she needed.

One paragraph in and her curiosity was hooked. Halfway through disbelief rocked her. By the time she was finished, she was near rage. Ignoring the protest of the Archivist, she carried the document out of the archives and back to Independence Hall. She ignored the attempts by the hall guard to stop her and burst into her father's office, ignoring the officers with him.

“I'm _married_?”

Miles looked up, took her expression and the document she'd crumpled in her hand in her rage and rolled his eyes. “Guys, give us the room. This is family business.”

She barely waited until the doors were shut behind them before she stormed forward. “Married!”

Miles shrugged. “Yeah. Since your eighteenth birthday.”

“You...you can't just do something like this! You can't just draw up a document and give someone away like this!”

“It's our Republic. We make the laws, and me and Bass can do just about anything we need for the good of the Republic.”

“How, exactly, is signing me over to Monroe like a...horse good for the Republic?”

“It wasn't, not wholly. I did it for you.”

She couldn't believe she was hearing this. “For me? How is this good for me?”

“Because you're my daughter, and I needed to be sure you'd be taken care of.” He spread his hands out slightly. “I was in the field for five years trying to lure Ben out so I could find you, Charlie. Most of my own damn Militia thought I was a traitor, that I tried to assassinate my best friend. I could have been killed by my own men at any time.” He gestured at the paper in her hands. “If the Militia had found you before you turned eighteen, that gave Bass the power to claim guardianship over you. Once you turned eighteen, you were his legal wife. It would have kept you safe.”

Her brain was spinning. “No wonder you didn't get pissed off when he kissed me.” She shook her head in disbelief. “No wonder he did it. He probably thinks he has the right.”

“He does.” Miles said it without remorse. Without hesitation. “And it's good for the Republic as well. You're young. You're healthy. You're wicked smart and have enough strength and courage for a dozen soldiers. With the right training you could easily step into Bass' position if anything happens to him. Take up the reigns and run the Republic. God knows I don't want the job.” He gave a shrug with one shoulder. “And then there is the potential for children, though feel free to hold off on that for a time. I'm not ready to be a grandfather just yet.”

“You just...gave me to him. And you don't see anything wrong with that?”

“It's old fashioned. Archaic, even. But I don't regret it. Do I think he was ham handed for trying to make a move this soon? Fuck yeah. And he's a little pissy right now, but he'll get over it.” He poured two whiskeys, setting one on the opposite side of the desk for her. “He's feeling anxious. When we got to the city I told him I wouldn't let you be disrespected in your own home. Told him all the whoring and womanizing had to stop. This is probably the longest dry spell he's had since we were deployed to Afghanistan before the Blackout. Feel free to make him work for it. A little celibacy isn't going to kill him. It might even do him some good.”

She grabbed the glass and downed it in one gulp, ignoring the burn. After the past couple of weeks, she needed a drink. She needed the buzz. 

Married. She was married and she hadn't even been a party of it. Just words on a piece of paper, her father giving her over to someone without her knowledge. The only place she'd heard of such things were in a cheesy historical romance novel she'd found in an old abandoned car years ago. It had sounded silly to her, and she'd assumed it was just something fictional dreamed up to add some drama to a story that was just smut wrapped in a weak plot. 

She was Mrs. Sebastian Monroe, and she didn't even have any of the memories to go with the name. No words exchanged in front of friends and family. No dress made for the day and kept carefully stored to be brought out only for special events afterwards. No well wishes from happy wedding guests. Just black ink on paper and made official by Monroe's presidential seal.

She accepted another drink from her father, and a third. By the she finished that one, the Archivist arrived, insisting she return the contract. Miles took it from her hand and surrendered it with a pseudo-apology the man couldn't refuse. She was too numb to do it herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Her hand still felt heavy.

The morning after the little 'research project' Monroe had set her on there had been a black box resting on her breakfast plate. Inside was a gold band with three diamonds set into it. A quick glance had revealed that Monroe already wore a larger, matching band on his left ring finger. Now that she was aware of her connection to him, she was expected to wear a physical representation. Wedding bands weren't that common any longer, since gold and diamonds both were used as currency. 

She'd looked up at Miles in question. He had responded with a brief nod. He expected her to accept the ring without a fuss, so she clenched her jaw and slipped the gold onto her finger.

It was curious how a tiny ring could feel so heavy.

“This is beyond medieval.” Aaron had asked why she wore the ring when he'd come over for her lessons. “Who writes betrothal contracts any longer?”

“Apparently my father.” She looked at the stack of books Aaron had brought with him. “What's all that?”

“Your lesson plan has been tweaked to include political science, finance and administration.”   
Charlie groaned and let her head fall onto the desk. “What?”

“Miles thinks I should be trained so I can take over the Republic if I suddenly find myself a widow.”

“Well, that explains things. Any way we can help that along?”

She gave him a stern look, her eyes glancing towards the guards standing just outside the door. “Keep your voice down, Aaron.” Her voice was a harsh whisper. “Do you want to give them a reason to kill you?”

He pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “I highly doubt that they'll punish me for speaking my mind when they know I don't care for either of them. Especially not when it would upset you. I may think that Miles has raised dickishness to an art form, but I do think he is concerned about your welfare and well being. Jerk though he may be, he does love you. He's just got a twisted way at showing it.”

She couldn't dispute that statement. Her father did come across as rather draconian most times, though at other times she still caught glimpses of someone caring and warm. Never when there were people other than herself or Monroe around, though. General Matheson wore a mask of cold detachment, ever the warrior king with his army ready to strike at any moment. He was only relaxed and friendly behind closed doors.

“Can you really learn how to lead a country from books?”

“You can learn the theories, but I suspect it's one of those things you have to actually have practical experience with. I didn't learn how to run a business from books. I had to roll up my sleeves and actually do it, and I hated it. It needed doing, but I was so much happier when I was just writing code.” Thankfully I was in a line of work where being able to get down in the trenches with the other coding monkeys was expected. Let me do the fun stuff.”

“I can't imagine there's anything fun about running a country.” She sighed and flipped through one of the books. “Everyone depending on you to fix their problems. Trying to keep things with other countries from getting violent. Every little thing that goes wrong you're blamed for.” She shook her head. “Maybe that's what makes Miles and Monroe act like such assholes.”

“It would be stressful, but I grew up with guys like Miles and Monroe. Trust me, they were probably always a little douchey. Monroe especially.”

“Why do you think that?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Have you actually looked at the man? He's too pretty not to be a ass hat. He was probably a jock, too. Played sports in high school,” he added when he saw her confusion at the word. “The kind of guys who gave guys like me wedgies and shoved our heads in toilets.”

“And Miles?”

“The dark, brooding guy. Easy. They were the ones who didn't say much, just sat in the back of the class a little hunched down in their desks. The girls loved them. Just fawned and sighed over them, imaging that they could be the ones who might make them happy so they weren't brooding anymore. Of course, they would have lost all interest if it worked. I blame all those young adult romance books with vampires and werewolves in them. That's how those characters were written.”

A snort of laughter escaped her and she covered her mouth to try and stop the giggles. She hadn't laughed in a few weeks, always feeling like she was walking on a razor's edge. Leave it to Aaron to help bring a little funny into her life. “Great. Now I've got an image of Miles with fangs and a cape stuck in my head.”

“Don't forget the bad Transylvanian accent. 'I vant to conquer your city!'”

Her giggles turned to cackles, head thrown back and almost falling out of her char. 

“Well, that's a welcome sound.” Her laughter cut off with a gasp. Monroe stood in the door of the small office they used for her lessons. “Don't tell me; you're studying the Carter administration.”

Aaron swallowed but otherwise showed no outward signs of worry. “We were just getting started, actually. Got distracted by a conversation of pre-Blackout young adult fiction.”

“Ah. Twilight, then.”

“Something like that.”

Monroe walked over to the table, his gaze following to the books. “I need you to draw up a study plan for the next couple of weeks. Something she can do on her own. Charlie and I will be leaving for Boston in the morning.”

That was news to her. “Boston? Why are we going there?”

“Annual review of the training facility. It would also be a good initial outing under your new station. A controlled environment in which some of our most trusted officers can meet you and get used to the idea of you being their First Lady.”

Awesome. “Is Miles going, too?”

“No. He is to remain. One of us should be available if anything pressing comes up.”

So she was to be in close quarters with only Monroe for two weeks. This just got better and better. “Ah. I should probably get packing, then.” She looked at Aaron. “See you for lunch?”

Her long time friend looked less then comfortable with any of this, but nodded. “Yeah. I should have it ready by then.”

~***~

The trip to Boston was far different from their journey to Philadelphia. And not just because it was significantly shorter. Instead of being on foot, she was traveling via train, the tracks between Philly and Boston having been fully restored. Monroe made use of a private car with comfortable seating, and the three hundred mile trip through what was once New York to the former Massachusetts took only half a day instead of the better part of a week. 

She watched the scenery through the window, trying her best to ignore the weight of Monroe's gaze on her face. 

“There will be a formal dinner Friday evening. The regional governor and the higher ranking officers of the local garrison. I'm afraid that means you'll have to put up with a seamstress for the first day or two for fittings and alterations.”

“I didn't pack anything for a formal dinner.”

“She'll likely have a few things for you to choose from. Your measurements and coloring were sent to her in advance. I asked Colonel Haverton's wife for recommendations on who to employ.” 

“Oh.”

Silence reigned again for a long moment. She heard Monroe shifting in his seat as he re-positioned his legs. “Charlotte, I know this likely seems unfair to you.”

“That's putting it rather mildly.” She finally looked at him. “What ever possessed you to let yourself be tied down to a kid you've never seen before? I was how old when you and Miles drew up that contract? Fourteen?”

“I had seen you before, though you likely don't remember. You were three and we were on leave. Your mother was in the hospital with complications with Danny and me and Miles came out to stay with you so Ben could stay with her.” An amused smile tugged his lips. “I wish I had pictures of that week. You got Miles to let you put this ridiculous princess crown on his head with a pink feathered boa. It was hilarious.”

She had trouble wrapping her mind around that one. “He did that?”

Monroe met her eyes straight on. “I don't think you fully appreciate just how much Miles loves you, Charlotte. Even when Rachel still maintained Ben was your father, you were the most important thing in the world to him. He was beside himself when the lights went out and he couldn't be sure you were all right. When Rachel left, it was because he'd finally found you, but he asked them to join us in Philly. Gave them time to pack, only Rachel showed up alone giving Ben time to grab you and Danny and run. Later, when Rachel finally came clean about Miles being your father...”

He trailed off as though weighing the possibilities of speaking further. “What?” He shook his head. “No, you don't get to just stop like that. What happened?”

Bass sighed. “It took Jeremy and two other guards combined to pull him off of her, he came that close to killing her. Almost had her choked out, and it took two weeks before her voice returned to normal.” He shook his head again. “I'd never seen him that angry before. Haven't seen him that angry since. He wanted her dead for what she did, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted to let him do it. In the end, only knowing that you'd be hurt if he killed your mother stayed his hand. 

“Even before that, he didn't handle not knowing where you were very well. Every year when your birthday came around he would throw everyone out and just drink himself into oblivion. He doesn't even believe in God but he still prayed that you were alive and safe. He'd burn the whole world to the ground for you, Charlotte. So don't doubt that your father loves you, Charlie. Everything he does is for you.”

She swallowed. “Including signing me over to his best friend?”

He winced. “To be honest, that was the whiskey. We were both drunk when we came up with that idea.”

“Oh, that's reassuring.”

“I'm a history buff. Mostly the American Civil War, but I like all history. He was worried about what would happen to you if his plan to lure Ben out into the open went awry. We couldn't let it be common knowledge that he was just undercover. The men had to believe he had betrayed me, that he'd deserted, and that meant he'd be a target. And Ben had held up Rachel's lies. Had lied to him, claiming you were his. He stole Miles' daughter, so he did not want to leave you with him. We wanted there to be no doubt that I had the right to take custody of you if you were found before Miles could.”

“And the whole part about being your wife once I was of age?”

“A way to ensure the future of the Republic. Miles and I built this together. Matheson and Monroe. Merging the two families is the best way to try and get the best of both in a future leader.” His head tilted in a sideways nod. “It is old fashioned, reminiscent of actions taken by nobility throughout the centuries to secure thrones and peace accords, but there's a reason why it was done. And to be honest, marriage for romantic love is a relatively new practice. Your father wanted to make sure that you had someone with the position and power to provide for and protect you in his absence. I'm the person he trusts with you.”

“And you're okay with that? I mean, what if you meet someone you like better? What if I do? The only other time you met me I was a toddler. Doesn't that seem a little...creepy?”

He chuckled. “I'll admit to some...unease. But that was before Miles finally brought you home.” The laugh died as blue eyes roamed over her from head to toe. “The plan was for Ben to show up asking for help, not for him to die. And I don't think either of us expected you to show up in his place if that happened. You're strong, courageous and fiercely loyal to those you consider to be family. I'd be an idiot not to recognize how remarkable you've turned out. All that and still beautiful on top of it. Any concerns I had before vanished when they brought you to Independence Hall. I count myself extremely lucky to have you by my side.”

She told herself not to throw herself across the space between them and attack. She wanted to tell him he didn't have her. That he never would. She didn't give a damn what Miles thought he could do, she didn't feel married to this man and, as far as she was concerned, she wasn't married to him.

_Feel free to make him work for it._

Even Miles thought it was inevitable that she would submit to Monroe. Well, she had news for the two of them.


End file.
